A Mess of a Dreamer with the Nerve to Adore You
by PheobeColelovers
Summary: Sparked from Cold As You by Taylor Swift. My take on Addison cheating on Derek. Hope you like it. Addek and Maddison. Now completely Maddison. Chapter fic. AU.
1. Mess of A Dreamer

This is an idea I got from listening to "Cold as You' by Taylor Swift. My take on the night Addison cheated on Derek. It has a slightly different slant on it, so I hope you enjoy.

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**A Mess of a Dreamer with the Nerve to Adore You**

You sit at the table, which you have immaculately prepared, spending a whole day to set the mood, create the perfect meal. You wanted _perfect _for him. You wanted for him to see just how much he meant to you._ 'Train in Vain'_ plays in the background on repeat because even though you hate _The Clash_, and this song does nothing to enhance the meal you have made, you know how much he loves it and that tonight isn't about you.

It doesn't matter though.

You assumed that tonight would be different, that he would come home on time, that a night with you trumped a night standing on his feet for hours on end, hands working, only thoughts of a successful surgery on his mind. You thought that he would want a night cuddling next to you, legs intertwined, the steady breathing of another person rather than the cold empty bed in an on-call room. You know all too well how uncomfortable they are and it baffles you to think that he would rather be there than with his wife. He has yet to even call and let you know that he's working late and your breathing becomes ragged as you let a few tears fall, realizing that you rank lower on his list of priorities than even remembering to pick up the dry cleaning, which hangs on the back of a chair. You begin to wonder if you are even on the list at all.

The room is dark now, the candles you placed so strategically on the table have long since burned out, the wax dripping on the table cloth you spent over an hour picking out at the linen store earlier in the day, convinced that choosing the right one would make all of the difference. White meant hope, peace. You would settle for nothing else, the blue one they showed you all too wrong, scarlet creating the wrong mood, beige too meaningless for tonight.

You wipe at the tears with the back of your hand and look down at the plates of food, now cold. You carefully pick them both up and throw them in the sink welcoming the sound as they collide with the metal and break. You move back to the table and pick up the bottle of wine. You've lost count of the number you've downed tonight, watching the clock and waiting for the sound of an opening door. You pour the dark liquid into your wine glass and proceed to take a long sip before carefully moving to place it and the bottle on the counter. You take what would be his glass, part of a set you received the day of your wedding, and throw it into the sink along with the plates of food now splattered on the wall behind. It too shatters and it only urges you on. You pull on the tablecloth wrapping the candlesticks and silverware into it and seconds later, you've flipped on the garbage disposal and are desperately pleading for it to rid you of every memory of this night.

Tears are freely falling now as you discover that you've broken the disposal and you sink to the floor. You know Derek will have someone out immediately to fix it and you scoff at that thought. He's good at that, you reason, focusing on anything and everything that isn't you.

The phone rings across the room and you know that your heart will break all over again but you can't help but believe that it's him, apologizing, offering promises of rain checks and romantic meals on top of the Empire State Building, the way things were. You calm your breathing as best you can and pull yourself up, making your way to the still ringing phone. You choose not to look at the caller I.D. allowing yourself to bask in your fantasy for just another moment. It's short-lived as you recognize the voice on the other end as anything but your husband's.

"Hello? Addi?"

You try to answer but you find it hard to make the words come out without a string of sobs following. You hear him sigh before he starts to speak again.

"I'm on my way."

You hear the line click and you slowly put the phone back down. How is it that Mark understands exactly what is wrong, without a single word spoken by you. And more importantly…why can't your husband do the same?

With unsteady fingers, you dial the number and put the phone to your ear expecting nothing but the voicemail that mocks you every time you try to get in touch with your husband. The fact that on the third ring, you hear his voice startles you so much that you almost drop the phone, so you clasp onto it tightly, your knuckles turning white.

"Derek?" You have to make sure that it really is him, that your ears aren't playing tricks on you, that the many glasses of wine aren't catching up to you.

"Yeah."

Now that you've gotten him on the phone, you have no idea what you should say. It's been so long since you've communicated through anything but voicemails that you've forgotten what a conversation with your husband should sound like.

"You didn't come." You try so hard to keep your voice from breaking, but you know it makes no difference. He wouldn't notice anyways. "I told you I was making dinner and you didn't come." You don't care that your voice breaks this time.

"Sorry."

He mumbles it and you know that he doesn't mean it, at least not like he used to.

"Are you because it doesn't sound like it?" You let your voice rise as you let crying get the best of you. "Why don't you care, Derek? Why couldn't you call and tell me that it was pointless to cook a meal for two? Why do you want to sleep at the hospital instead of with me?"

"I have to go."

That's all he gives you, a series of one-word answers before he ends the phone-call and you're still desperately clinging to the phone, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You take a step and lose your balance, falling to the ground and that's where Mark finds you minutes later. He takes one look at you before you feel yourself being pulled into his arms and seconds later, carefully placed on the couch. The phone is taken from your hand and 'end' is clicked, stopping the constant reminder that he deserted you yet again.

"Addi?"

You know he's waiting for confirmation that you hear him, a word, a look, anything to signify that you're alright, but you're anything but and you know he realizes this as he sits down beside you. He reaches towards you then, pushing the strands of hair that cling to your tears-streaked cheeks back, so that he can see your face.

"He…"

You can feel that he isn't sure what to say and for as long as you've known Mark, 'speechless' has never been a word associated with the man.

"Why?" is all that you say as you turn your face so that you're staring into his eyes. "Why doesn't he love me, Mark?"

He's struggling for words again, so instead he pulls you to him and rubs your back.

"Everything will be alright."

He assures you of this, but you don't believe it. There's no reason to think that anything has a chance of being okay. You have a husband who hasn't had an actual two-way conversation with you in weeks and being in Mark's arms is the closest contact you've had with a man in at least three months. You shake your head vigorously when he repeats himself and wrench yourself from his arms and the couch.

"It won't be alright!" You scream at him as though he is the culprit of everything wrong in your life. "Everything is not fucking alright!"

You leave him and go to the kitchen remembering the glass you left there and finding it, gulp the rest down in mere seconds before grabbing the bottle and frantically filling the glass to the top, the liquid falling onto the counter. You know it will leave a stain if you don't clean it now, but you leave it as a reminder.

Mark follows you and as you try to place the glass to your lips, he grabs it from you, wine spilling onto the floor. You try to take it back when he sets it on the counter, but he grabs your wrists, turning you to him.

"Stop, Addison. Just…Stop."

He's begging you and as you look into his eyes, you see that he is trying to keep his own tears in check. You sag against him and both of you stand this way for a while.

"What the hell did you do to the garbage disposal?"

He tries to make you laugh to lighten the mood because he's always been good at that, but the wounds are too new and it only makes you cry again, so he just starts to rub circles on your back. You let him until you find the strength to step away and look again into his eyes.

"What do I have to do to make him see me, Mark?" you ask him, your voice small, broken. You know he has no answers, but you think you may have found one, so you step forward and without warning bring your lips to his. You know that he is confused and it takes a moment before he starts to kiss you back.

As the kiss grows more intense, you can't help but will Derek to come home. You want him to walk in on this. You want to see him jealous. It proves he has feelings, and that is why both of you are making your way to the foyer and as Mark shrugs his leather jacket off, you quickly slip the buttons of your blouse through the holes and let it fall and mingle with the jacket.

You take a quick glance at the door as you continue to pull Mark up the stairs, hoping to see the headlights of a car. Maybe if he sees you now, he will actually _**see**_ you and you can handle the anger, the betrayal as long as you know there is something behind it. You can't be angry or feel betrayed or jealous unless you are in love. You tell yourself this as you pull Mark into the bedroom you share with your husband.

You don't realize that jealousy doesn't have to go hand in hand with love as you see hear the creaking of the door, Mark on top of you. You turn and your eyes meet his and it scares you that you find nothing in the deep seas of blue that stare back at you.

It's now that Mark notices you aren't alone and he jumps up, scrambling to pull on his jeans. You see how Mark looks at Derek and now he's standing in front of you, but you plead with him to leave, so Mark reluctantly grabs his shirt and brushes past your husband and you hear his feet on the stairs before the door shuts.

Derek says nothing to you. You aren't even certain that he is still breathing. He isn't moving and his eyes are still fixed on yours and this is the first time you have ever felt fear in a room with him.

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You don't look up when you hear the door open, your place on the cold, hard floor suits your mood. You're too tired from crying and the idea that maybe Derek has returned too much for your body to hope for at the moment.

You hear the rustling of something and the sound that his wet shoes make on the hardwood and then out of the corner of your eye, you see that he is placing your clothes in a heap on the floor. He makes his way to you now and promises that he will pay for the dry cleaning. Your hands play with a hole on the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing and it smells like him. If you close your eyes you can almost believe that he is still beside you and that everything you've lived for the last year has been only a horrible nightmare. He will cradle you and promise you that he will always love you. Then he will call in sick to the hospital and both of you will stay in bed all day, laughing, loving, but as Mark places his large hands on each side of your face, your eyes open and the reality of the situation sinks in.

"I was wrong." You speak clearly and you note the way Mark's forehead wrinkles in confusion. "He doesn't love me."

You collapse against Mark then, and he pulls you into his lap, placing soft kisses in your hair.

You aren't certain of anything anymore.

You aren't _certain_ of your husband's whereabouts.

You aren't _certain_ that your tears will ever stop falling.

You aren't _certain_ that you want Mark to be sitting on the floor holding you.

You aren't _certain_ that your body will ever stop shaking.

You aren't _certain_ that you hate the feel of his arms wrapped around you.

Your heart will forever ache, of that you are _certain_.

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A/N: Okay, so that's it. I hope it's okay.


	2. I Wanna Hear You Laugh Like You Mean it

**Chapter 2-I Wanna Hear You Laugh Like You Really Mean it.**

_**I've decided to continue this and make it a full maddison fic. It will be AU because it's my whole little what if scenario and stems from the night of the affair.**_

You sit on the couch in your apartment, cold Chinese food on the coffee table. You've always embraced the bachelor life-style. You're Mark Sloan, the player, the man who is 'making his way through all of the women in New York' as Addison had so eloquently put it the other day when you were at the Brownstone, insisting that you not watch another chick flick. You're the one who will never marry, never have children. You, in simple terms, are the anti-Derek. You're supposed to be everything he isn't, want everything that is the opposite of his aspirations. Derek wanted to fix the inner-workings of the human body, so you went for plastics, everything outside, the covering.

You aren't supposed to want what Derek wants, to crave the life that he has. So why do you?

You flip through the channels with the remote, looking for anything to take your mind off of thoughts of Addison. No, not just Addison, your best friend's wife. Correction, your brother's wife. Even you understand that she is off-limits, but it gets harder each time you pick up the phone, only to hear her broken voice as it rattles off Derek's latest excuse for leaving her alone. You had the day off today which is why you offered to accompany Addison when she told you she was going shopping, something you hardly ever agree to do. Shopping with Addison is the equivalent of running a marathon. Usually you would only make a date for lunch after she finished, but today you heard the hope in her voice as she spoke about Derek having the night off, so you smiled and told her that you would gladly be her pack mule for the day.

You watched as she bought everything new for her 'perfect night with Derek.' She said the phrase so often that now you wonder if she's just been setting herself up for disappointment. You love Derek. You've grown up with him, but you know that lately, he's put very little effort into his social life. You've been abandoned along with Addison, which is why most nights when you aren't at the hospital, you are at the Brownstone, eating whatever meal Addison prepared for her absent husband and making a point to keep the conversations between the two of you very light. You aren't ready to hear about the problems in their relationship even if you are aware of their existence. Admitting to their problems means that they are not happy together and you know you will not trust yourself around her when you finally let this truth sink in.

You've promised yourself that Addison is happy with Derek. After all, he is your opposite, which should make him the perfect family man. It is because of this that you have never tried to pursue her despite the intake of breath you have to take when she walks into the room and the way your heart rate climbs in her presence.

You haven't received a phone call from Addison tonight, so you hope that this means Derek remembers what she has planned. You don't want to hear her voice if he decides not to show up again. You listened to her ramble on about tablecloths and told her which Clash song she should have playing in the background. You listened as she went on for hours about starting over and grinned along despite the pain you felt tugging at your chest.

It doesn't take much for you to convince yourself to call her. You're only calling a friend, checking in, maybe planning lunch for the next time she's off work. You dial the number without thought, your fingers instinctively finding the right buttons. You like to think that this is because the man you've known since kindergarten lives there, but you know that it's because the woman you've spent countless hours with in the past month draws you to her. On the third ring, you can hear someone pick up, and when you hear the uneven breathing you know that it's her.

"Hello? Addi?" You call out her name to make certain, and instead of an answer, you receive a muffled noise and you know that she's trying not to break down. You're immediately up and briskly grabbing your leather jacket. You sigh before you speak into the phone once more before hanging up. "I'm on my way."

You place the phone on the end table before making your way outside, moving so fast that you don't even bother to lock the door. You slip your jacket on as you make your way down the street. You can count how many steps it takes to reach the Brownstone and you've made this journey so many times before that you are convinced you could reach the building with your eyes closed, the feel of her the only guidance you need.

You think about what she's doing at this moment. Is she sitting in the kitchen? The living room? Is she frantically wiping away the tears that you are certain are falling from her eyes? Is she thinking at all about you?

You wonder how long you've felt this way, how long thoughts of her have plagued your mind and if you're being honest with yourself, you know that it was your first day of medical school. You remember the moment with such clearness, how she rolled her eyes when you jokingly hit on her, how she laughed out loud, her fiery hair shining from the glare of the sun. You remember urging Derek to talk to her, his interest in her so obvious. And once there conversation flared up, you remember that is when the ache in your chest began.

You take the steps two at a time and don't bother to knock before you walk in and make your way to the kitchen where you hear the sobbing. What you see breaks your heart. She's on the floor and clutching so hard to the phone that her knuckles are white and even from your spot, you can hear the steady beeping of the dial tone. With one swift motion, you pull her into your arms and make your way to the living room where you place her on the couch and pry the phone from her fingers. You click end to stop the incessant drone which you know is only making her feel worse.

"Addi?" You need to hear her. You need to know that she is okay. You need to know what she wants you to do. When you see her steal a quick glance at you, you know that she is falling apart, so you sit beside her, and push away the strands of hair that are covering her face. You try to make her feel better, try to think of something to say.

"He…" you begin, but you cannot finish the sentence, or even a simple phrase concerning Derek at the moment. You hate him for what he's done to her, and you're afraid that if you speak, you'll say something of that nature and she'll either hate you for it or both of you will do something you regret.

"Why?" she pleads with you. "Why doesn't he love me, Mark?"

You want to find Derek. You'd love to go to the hospital, pull him into an on-call room and let him have it for what he's made of such a strong woman. She's amazing. She's gorgeous, successful, annoying intelligent, and yet she's weeping insecure mess at this moment because of him. Instead, you let the anger pass and pull her towards you. All you know to do is rub slow, steady circles on her back and hope that it soothes her.

"Everything will be alright." You repeat this to her and she scares you when she rips herself from your grip and stands up.

"It won't be alright. Everything is not fucking alright!"

You follow her as she moves back to the kitchen and see her as she gulps down a glass of wine and by the look of the bottle, you know she's had at least four glasses, so when you see her pour another, you take it away before she can consume it and place it on the counter. When she tries to pick it up again, you take hold of her wrists and turn her toward you and it physically hurts to see the pain in her eyes.

"Stop, Addison. Just…Stop." You're begging her now and a moment later, she sags against you.

You want more than anything for this to be just another night when Derek is at the hospital, to make some popcorn and sit in the living room with her, doing everything within your power to make her laugh, whether it be letting her in on your most recent sexual encounter which she always seems to find funny for reasons that you could never understand or even just by telling a simple corny or perverted joke. You'd give anything to see her face light up in this moment, so you take a look around the room and make an attempt to make things better. You ask her what she did to the garbage disposal and the second you say it, you know that it was wrong because she starts to cry again and you resume the circles you were drawing on her back. You don't know how long you stand like this, the only sounds in the room consisting of your breathing and her gasps and sighs as she tries to get her emotions in check. You begin to feel her pull away from you and you look into her eyes.

"What do I have to do to make him see me, Mark?"

You stare blankly for a moment because you have no idea what the right answer is and before you have a chance to react, her lips are on yours. Your first reaction is to pull back. She is Derek's wife, but for just a second you bask in the beauty of her and once you feel her, you know that you won't be able to stop yourself. You've dreamt of this moment for far too long, what it would feel like to breathe her breath, how soft her lips would be. Now that the kiss is growing more intense, the world could fall down around you, but you would continue on, your emotions too strong, your vision too clouded by her soft features, your hands lost in her silky hair.

You stumble across the kitchen and when you reach the foyer, you pull your leather jacket off and let it fall to the floor, and watch as she maneuvers her blouse off and it floats down to meet your clothing. She pulls you up the stairs and now you're making your way to their bedroom and you know you should feel something other than insane amounts of happiness and love, but you just can't seem to. That feeling fades though when Addison lay rigid beneath you and you follow her eyes to a very angry Derek standing in the doorway. You immediately jump up and reach for your clothes and once you have your jeans on, you take a look at Derek and are actually scared to see the look in his eyes as he stares at Addison. You aren't certain of what he's capable of at the moment, but you aren't willing to take chances, so you stand in front of Addison, ready and willing to fight your best friend if need be.

After a moment, she assures you that she is fine and that it's best if you leave so you reluctantly grab your t-shirt and walk out of the room, stopping briefly in the hallway to listen before you leave the house. You slip your shirt on and deem the rain that falls a perfect addition to the evening. You wander around the block for a good ten minutes, not yet willing to go home. You need to make sure that she is okay. You don't think that Derek would ever physically hurt her, but then again, you were certain that he would be the man that made her happy and here you were tonight, walking in the rain, after just having sex with what would be your best friend's wife.

Your heart can't stand to wait any longer so you walk back to the brownstone and as you get closer, you see the array of colors in front of the building which you soon recognize as Addison's clothing. You gather it up and carry it up the stairs and walk into the house, your damp shoes squeaking against the hardwood. You place the clothes in a pile before you make your way to her, now lying on the floor in nothing but one of Derek's old shirts. "I'll pay for the dry cleaning." You feel like you should say something, but for some reason, this is all you can manage.

You kneel beside her and place your hands on either side of her face, willing her to look at you.

"I was wrong."

She says this so simply that you're afraid you've just lost the one person you value above everything else. You give her a look that urges her to continue.

"He doesn't love me."

As soon as she says this, she falls into your arms and you are both relieved and heartbroken by her statement. You silently place kisses in her hair and try to soothe her in any way you can. You know that this isn't the ideal situation, but maybe this is the beginning of everything you've ever wanted.

You realize in this moment that you and Derek **are** opposites.

Derek pushed her away. You will never let her go.

Derek exchanged her for the hospital. You will exchange the hospital for her.

Derek broke her.You will piece her together.

Derek's love dwindled. Yours has only grown stronger.

Derek has made her cry. You will do everything to make her laugh like she means it.

_**I'm not too sure about the ending, but overall I'm pleased.**_


End file.
